


only the dead have seen the end

by orphan_account



Series: meet me where the world begins [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Unrequited Love, War of the Ninepenny Kings, crack ship, rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 00:50:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11612502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Someone should have told Steffon how awful war truly is - love, though, isn't always awful.





	only the dead have seen the end

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the quote, "only the dead have seen the end of war" by Plato. (This work is unbeated, clearly.)
> 
> This is a very early prequel to my main fic, like, 40 years before the main fic takes place. This is set during the War of the Ninepenny Kings - also known as the Fifth Blackfyre Rebellion. We know Steffon Baratheon - along with Tywin Lannister, Aerys Targaryen and Brynden Tully, to name a few - fought in. We also know that Steffon's father, Ormund, died during the war, in Steffon's arms :( but on a ~happier~ (or sadder, maybe) note, this might be when the lords/heirs of great, and smaller, houses came together and decided that they wouldn't be pushed around by the Targaryens anymore.
> 
> (Of course, later on in my version of the fic, they come to join up with Rhaegar, against Aerys, but only on the condition that they aren't used anymore and are more respected and given more power. Basically, they're saying, "We'll let you Targaryens rule but only because we decide that. We have power too.")
> 
>  
> 
> It doesn't say in the books or anything whether or not Doran actually took part in the War of the Ninepenny Kings but I think it's pretty likely he did. He would have been 13 during the war - Steffon would have been 14 and if you think Doran was too young, Kevan Lannister would have been 10! 
> 
> I don't think we know if Doran used to be a good fighter but he was a squire so he would have learnt something. Also, we don't know what House Martell did during the war, nor do we know much about Dorne in general during that time, but Lewyn Martell would probably in his prime, or maybe just coming out of it (if i had to guess, he'd have been around 30, that's just a guess though).
> 
> I'm sure that Lewyn would have been fighting during the war - especially as it took place on the Stepstones, which is semi-close to Dorne - even if he wasn't in the Kingsguard yet. And we know nothing about the Princess of Dorne - or Loreza, as I and many others name her - but it's fanon that she was a badass and smart too, and I like that headcanon, and so I th ink she would want her -young - heir to be out there fighting in front of his people. :)
> 
> EDIT: Also...I've added it in so Steffon has a streak of silver in his otherwise black hair lol

All his life Steffon had wanted to see a battle, to see a proper fight. That's why he was so excited when his father told him he'd be squaring for him during the war; the War of the Ninepenny Kings, Prince Duncan (or Uncle Duncan, as he insisted on being called, though, Steffon had heard his mother calling his uncle less kind things under her breath - words Master Cressen would gasped at if said aloud) was naming it.  
  
Ser Gerold Hightower would be there, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard! Mother told him not to get too hopeful about meeting all of the great warriors and Steffon had smiled and said of course not but really, he prayed to the gods that he could meet great swordsmen from around all of Westeros. In hindsight, he really shouldn't have gotten his hopes up to meet Ser Gerold and the like, his mother is always right, after all.

(That's what his father always said, to listen to his mother. Steffon does, because his mother, all agree, is quite a brilliant woman indeed.)

Instead of meeting these heroes, Steffon is stuck in the squires area, while his father gets to speak with the great lords and discuss the coming war. It is still all exciting, yes, and he does speak to some lords from around the kingdom, and he gets to hear some stories from experienced soldiers but he would much rather be with the grown men.

And Tywin and Aerys, but the are in another part of the camp, unfortunately. They're likely feasting with great lords and warriors, with the likes of Ser Gerold and Barristan the Bold. Again, Steffon would much rather be there, where living accommodations are almost certainly much better, than some messy camp with badly cooked meat and barely put up tents.

That is until one night when he is eating with the rest of the squires - Steffon thought that he would eat with his father, not only as his squire but also his son, his father told him that he should make friends with the heirs from around the kingdom though, incase a day will come when he should need there help - and they speak about how honoured they are to be speaking with someone who has Targaryen blood. 

Its obvious he is part Taragryen really. Steffon looks all Baratheon, like his father, from his dark blue eyes, to his tall frame, to his freckled nose. It's his hair which makes him look different though; it's almost all black as night, but for one streak of silver, which against his dark hair actually seems to light up. When he fist went to the capital loads of the children had found it fascinating, even Tywin though he'd never admit that.

"Never have I seen hair like that," a boy, Olyvar, says in awe. Other boys nod in agreement. 

"Nor have I," Steffon admits, "though they say that Prince Valarr had brown hair with a golden-silver streak."

Another squire, with a thick accent whichildren could only be from Flea Bottom, says, "Which one was Valarr, again? Was he the Old King's fourth son?"

It was then that Steffon realised how privalleged he was, how lucky he was to have ano education. He tries not to feel too much pity for the other boys. "Prince Valarr was the son of Baelor Breakspear, who was the second King Daeron's eldest son." 

"Of course," Olyvar says, looking as though he remembered something important. "He's the one who was killed by his brother, wasn't he?" 

'It was an accident,' Steffon almost says, but they've begun speaking about where they come from.

Soon, one boy, who must have been twelve to Steffon's fourteen, asks what his castle is like. They are all from small towns, or villages, at best, Steffon realises, he is like Aerys to them, like Tywin or maybe King Jaehaerys are to him. He doesn't know how to feel about that.

"It's really not that special," he says humbly, trying not to sound big-headed, as another boy, with dark hair, passes him some meat. "Thank you. Well, like I said, Storm's End isn't all that grand, compared to the Red Keep."

That's not necessarily true, in his honest opinion, Storm's End looks much better and grander than some red stone, it's bigger too, and has a much more fascinating history. He is proud of his castle, as his father would want him to be.

The boy who passed passed him the meat, grins at his words and speaks to the group - which mainly consists of young boys, mostly squires and all from different parts of Westeros, though mainly the middle of the continent. "I've seen the Red Keep, the biggest castle I've ever seen in my life. It's so grand. Whenever I look at it all I can think is that kings have lived in that tower, that Aegon the Dragon built it all up. It's amazing."

Steffon hears that the boy has an accent that sounds like a...well, bastard version of his mother's, and Aerys', and the rest if them. Most of the boys from the group nod, saying that they've seen it once or twice.

"Have you ever seen the dragon skulls?" Steffon asks them enthusiastically. They look more confused than anything, Steffon realises that they've probably never been that far down below the Red Keep, hardly anyone goes down there, after all. "What about the Maidenvault? I've been in it before, you can see the main training yard from it."

A boy, who had introduced himself as Duncan earlier, named for the knight Steffon's grandfather had befriended, laughs out loud. "We've never been to the Red Keep, we're not royal. All we've seen is the towers and walls, well, the ones we can see from the streets. I'm from Flea Bottom, which is a slum, and the rest of the city isn't much better. You're the only one in this part of camp who knows the king personally, the only one who can make his way around the keep."

That made Steffon feel bad, and so he chewed quietly on his meat, feeling somewhat ashamed. The other boys didn't seem too bothered by any of it, some were even curious about what he had seen, mainly the dragon skulls. _They will never know how what they will never have,_ Steffon thinks. It sounds like something his mother would say. He cannot wait to see his mother again.

Aerys would call him a babe but his father had always said that only true men treat their mother's, and women in general, kindly, and that you cannot be a good and true knight if you are cruel to women. He loves Aerys, he does, but he trusts his father on this.

* * *

A little while later, Steffon is still sitting with the others boys after they've had their dinner, and they are speaking about where in Essos they would want to go. Steffon is only half paying attention - not because he's uninterested, no, these boys and taking oart in their conversation was some of the most fun he'd had in a while - but because he noticed that more men, proper knights not just squires, have been coming and setting up more tents.

As Duncan is telling them about Asshia, which he heard about from some drunk in some inn, and was laughing with the others because it sounded a little like the more inappropriate word for someone's behind - ass, that is - a knight comes to them.

A real knight, with proper armour and a shield and, not a sword, but a spear! He's got an accent when he asks, "Have you still got some food and drink left?"

"We're not giving it up," one boy, named Jon, says, perhaps a little too stubbornly, in Steffon's opinion. But when other boys nod in agreement he realises that they must have to fight for their food where they live.

The accented knight smirks, "Not even for a prince?"

At that, the boy seem to lose it in their excitement - they'd been surprised to meet Steffon, he could only imagine what they must be thinking when they're about to meet a prince. Over them, Steffon tries to say, "Aerys is here?" But the knight has gone.

It isn't Aerys who comes out a bright orange tent, with a guard beside him. Aerys is pale and loud and likes people to notice him, this prince isn't at all like that. When the boys bow and Steffon goes on one knee - if less enthusiastically than the others, who look like young children on their namedays - the prince acts modestly, not flashing his title in front of him, like another prince he knows...but his mother taught him to speak good of his kin, even if he thinks differently.

The prince could only be Dornish. It was obvious, from his clothing and armour style to his accent. He looked the part of a Dornishman, too, with his dark skin and eyes that were darker still.

Steffon knew that Princess Loreza had two sons, Doran and Oberyn, and the latter must be hardly two years old, which meant that this prince was the heir to Dorne. Steffon doesn't know why, but he stands up and shakes the prince's hand, "I am Steffon Baratheon," he says, "and these are my friends. Would you like to eat with us?" 

Prince Doran seems unsure and glances nervously at his gaurd. The knight just nods and the prince sits down. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Doran tells them, sounding as confident as a prince should, Steffon thinks. "Though it would be nicer if it were under better circumstances."

"We'll best these foreigners and get home safely," Duncan says, passing Prince Doran some watered down wine. "I know it."

"They aren't just foreigners," the prince says quietly, but with certainty. "They are invaders, rebels, who seek something they have no claim to."

"Whatever they're called," Jon announces confidently, "we'll crush them. And I hear the Blackfyre has two heads!"

The boys laugh at that and then start speaking about the battle, but Steffon cannot help but look at Prince Doran. He's only met one other prince in his life - well, he's met his uncles Duncan and Daeron, but they're dead now, and Steffon isn't sure if they count, especially Uncle Duncan, as Grandfather Aegon renounced his claims to the throne. And his other uncle, the last living one, is king now.

The point is, Aerys is the only prince he really knows, and it's not difficult to see that the similarities between Aerys and Doran end at their title - which are actually different, one is a prince of Dorne, the other of Westeros - and not just because of their looks. Prince Doran seems to carry himself with more confidence, and he hasn't got the pride Aerys does - well he has some pride, but Steffon has heard that most Dornishmen, and princes, do.

As the night goes on, Steffon finds he quite likes the prince - who insists on being called just Doran - and he feels an odd feeling when the prince laughs at something Jon said. Steffon can't help but notice how his usually serious face looks wonderful when it smiles, from his wide, white smile to the way his dark eyes twinkle. He feels something when Doran speaks about his home with that 'Dornish pride' and his smile as he tells them all that his young sister, who was just shy of three, was learning to swim in the famous Water Gardens.

In fact, Steffon finds that he wants the prince to notice him. He might notice my hair? Gods, he wasn't some silly maiden. He shouldn't say that, his mother always told him that silly people, especially young maidens, weren't often smarter than thone who named them fool.

Steffon's father had told him that he felt ' _something_ ' when he met his mother, and that has mother said she felt the same - Steffon supposed he believed them, even if he couldn't never imagine his mother, the strong princess turned lady Rhaelle Baratheon, as a young blushing maiden - apparently it was like his father knew he was in love. A mixture of feelings went through him - mainly fear and nervousness - when he realised he feels that with Doran.

No, he can't be...in love wih someone he's never had an actual conversation with. And besides, Steffon should be feeling this way about some girl, not a boy. Gods, he came here for war, not love.

* * *

He's allowed to go to the better camp the next day, with his father. When he sees Aerys and Tywin, Steffon breaks into a grin. He goes off to speak with them as his father speaks with Jon Arryn, telling them that he's seen hardly anything exciting.

"I spoke with Barristan Selmy," Aerys says, sharpening a sword, quite dramatically and Steffon's sees that his cousin makes sure everyone who passes notices his steel weapon. "A brave knight."

Steffon tries to look curious, because he knows that Aerys would want that. "Really? I've not seen any famous knight yet. My father says that Brynden Tully is here, Lord Tully's second son. Father says he's a legend in the making."

"Father, father, father," Aerys mocks - though, really there's nothing to mock, yes, Steffon has always been close to his parents where his friends aren't really close to theirs at all. Personally, Steffon doesn't see what's wrong with liking being in your father's company or listening to your mother's advise. Aerys cannot take criticism though, Steffon knows that well enough.

"How is yours?" He asks, following Aerys and Tywin to their tent which has chairs in it, and beds that are probably bigger than Steffon's whole tent back at the other side of camp. Even so, at that other camp, Steffon is meeting and eating with the common folk though, the smallfolk, _his_ people - well, most of from the Stormlands, a few are from the Crownlands, mainly King's Landing, like Dunk and Jon.

He loves his friends dearly, he does, but Steffon cannot imagine Tywin sitting on a log in front of a campfire and listen to people - who are all almost certainly poorer than the lowest paid servants at the Rock- talk about their mother's and which famous knight they'd like to be. That wasn't Tywin's way, at all really.

Aerys is already lying lazily on the bed when he answers, looking almost confused. "What?"

"How is your father? His Grace?" Steffon explains, though he doesn't think he should really need to. Aerys was quite different from everyone else though.

"Oh," Aerys finally says in recognition. "I'm sure he's well, I hardly see him, do I? I'm busy answering your silly questions. And even without you, I've got a busy schedule, I'm _only_ the Crown Prince and heir to all of Westeros after all."

Out of the corner of his eyes, Steffon sees Tywin roll his eyes. Aerys doesn't see though and continues speaking, now about all the knights he has met. He was going on about so many legends he had apparently met that Steffon wondered if he'd start telling them he met Aegon the Conqueror next. If he was honest, he wouldn't surprised if it happened.

As Aerys goes on and on, Tywin occasionally chiming in but is mostly just sitting there looking like...what was it that mother used to describe him? - oh yes, like everything was beneath him. It was true that Tywin thought himself incredibly impressive and was sometimes a bit too much, a bit too... _Tywin_. But Steffon couldn't ever really hate Tywin because he had taken Steffon under his wing as soon as he got to court and had made him popular and well liked and had become his close friend.

Tywin, Aerys and himself had become inseparable, as his late grandmother, Queen Betha, had put it. (In truth, Steffon hardly remembers his grandparents, he does remember his grandmother calling him handsome though, which had made him go red. His late Uncle Daeron had likened him to Prince Valarr much of the time, Ser Duncan and grandfather Aegon too, boh of whom had known the prince, or at least met him.

Steffon hadn't been at Summerhall, nor his mother, he had been very ill that week, so he had to stay abed. Sometimes Steffon wondered if the gods had saved him on purpose. Why, though, he'd never know.)

All he could think of was another prince though. The way Doran held himself...like a true prince, not Aerys. _No_ , he didn't need to think about Doran. He didn't. He did though, of course he did.

* * *

It was much later that Steffon saw Doran again, during battle (it would be the last battle of the war, but they didn't know that yet). The Dornish prince was fighting beside Lord Gargalen, it was clear that while not the best and most brutal fighter, Doran was a determined one.

The way his eyes were focused on his enemies as he cut them down, almost gracefully - like a true prince, really - it was so... _wonderful_ that Steffon stopped his own fighting to watch. It was only when he father hit his shoulders that he stopped. "Are you alright?" His father asks him, managing to look worried and concerned, even with blood covering most of his face.

"I am," Steffon says, and for a moment his father holds his hand, then squeezes and lets go.

"Watch out, son. Men can lose themselves in the fight - don't."

He looks at his father and Steffon has never wanted to please his father and makes him proud so much as he does now. "I'm not lost. I'm with you."

Ormund's smile is proud, and true. His father wasn't like his grandfather, the Laughing Storm. Steffon's father wasn't all smiles and laughs and charm but he was comforting and always there and a good father - he never puts too many expectations on his son, as Lord Lyonel did him.

Then they saw him, Maelys the Monstrous, the one who caused all this. Steffon couldn't see much of him from far away, but the latest Blackfyre pretender was a big man. They said he had a second head, sprouting from his neck. Steffon looks to his father and sees that his eyes are wild - a dark blue, the colour of a storm with lightning and thunder. He sees rage in his father's eyes - Steffon has never see him like that.

"Father, don't get lost," Steffon reminds him.

His father laughs. The sound is bitter, not joyful. "I am the Lord of the Stormlands and I have Targaryen blood. And that man and his family have caused terror and pain to my people and my family for five decades. Too long have they tried to rip Westeros apart. Not anymore."

There is fury in his father's eyes - one he shan't ever forget - and his voice, and Steffon wonders if this is what his grandfather was like in battle. He is almost amazed at his father's fury, his strength. ( _Ours is the fury_ , Steffon thinks distantly.) Still, his father just moments ago had given him advice for battle. "Some men lose themselves in war - don't, father."  
  
Ormund Baratheon puts an arm around his shoulder, a great frown on his face. "I'm not lost," he says, quoting Steffon. (Those are the last words his father ever says to him.) Then Lord Ormund charges over to Maelys Blackfyre, shouting for his king and his wife, and, after putting up a good fight, is cut down, left bleeding on the ground.

Steffon rushes to him and nearly slips on some blood in the attempt to get to him. His father looks at him, his blue eyes aren't stormy anymore, they're a calm lighter blue, the colour of the sea on a nice, calm day. "Father, no, no, please," he begs helplessly, clutching his father in his arms.

He doesn't know how long he holds him, he's only slightly aware that men of the Stormlands are defending him, he is on the ground, his sword discarded elsewhere - they weren't known for being loyal, like the North, but Steffon...he's their lord now. _No_ , he can't be.

Later - perhaps an hour later, perhaps a second later - he hears cheers from the Westerosi, hears people saying that the Monstrous is dead, killed by Ser Barristan the Bold. Steffon isn't sure if it is real though, all he knows is that his father is gone. The only thought going from Steffon's mind is of his mother and how she will surely rage and grieve and rage for days when she hears - no, she'll rage for years; for decades; forever.

In that moment, he feels both younger and older than he ever had before.

* * *

Jon Arryn comes to see him when he is in his father's tent. Steffon has never met the Lord of the Vale and never does he remember his father speaking of him, not the way he spoke of his old friend, Lord Rodrick Stark, the one they called the Wandering Wolf. But Lord Arryn speaks as though he and his father were great friends.

"I saw you when you were a babe," Lord Arryn says. Steffon wonders if he's trying to comfort him, if so, it's not working.

"My father never told me you came to visit Storm's End."

Jon Arryn shakes his head, "No, I never have. I saw you at the capital, King Aegon - he was king then - had a feast in celebration of your birth, and Princess Rhaella's too. Your namedays must be close."

"Just shy of a week apart," Steffon says without feeling - he can't feel anymore, even thinks. But he remembers his kind, sharp cousin fondly, and he did love young Rhaegar, who was hardly a year old, who would grasp his fingers with his smaller ones and look as though he understood what everyone said. Rhaella was too young to be wed and with as child, Aerys too.

Part of Steffon shan't ever forgive the king, or rather, his uncle, Jaehaerys and his late grandfather, Aegon, for forcing Aerys and Rhaella to wed.

"I remember everyone saying how fascinated they were by your hair. Prince Aerys was still little more than a babe then and apparently he liked to touch it. Your father was always proud of it, and you." Steffon says nothing to the lord, so he continues, "I can't imagine how you're feeling, my lord, I can't." Arryn puts a hand on his shoulder and Steffon shakes it off harshly.

"No, you can't. And I'm not lord, not before my father is buried with his family back at Storm's End." With that, Steffon walks out of the tent, ignoring everyone who tries to speak to him, offering their apologies and sorrows. He doesn't care for that, he doesn't have need of it. Right now, all he wants is to hug his mother. There are tears in his eyes - his father's eyes. No, he wasn't crying in front of everyone here.

His watery eyes are practically blinding him now, too blurry for him to know where he's going. Once he sees a quiet place, with no soldiers or any men at all, Steffon falls down, leaning against boxes full of fresh clothes and cloths. He barely resits crying out. How long he sits there, he isn't sure, but eventually he hears footsteps but he doesn't bother to move, if he even could.

"Steffon? I...I heard the news. I'm sorry," it's Doran Martell who is speaking to him and Steffon's heart skips a beat. Gods, his father was dead and he's still going on about this. He feels something though - for a moment, a short one, he isn't a grieving son.

"Thank you," he says, and stands up on shaky legs. He almost falls down but Doran grabs his arms, looking concerned - like his father did when Steffon was looking at Doran on the battlefield. Those dark eyes...yes, Steffon looks at them and tries hard to forget his father. It doesn't work. "Thank you again," Steffon tells him after Doran puts a hand on his shoulders steadying him.

"Don't thank me," Doran says.

Steffon almost laughs, he doesn't know why. "I just did, my prince."

"I told you the other night, call me Doran," he insists, gently and humbly. "Let me get to back to camp."

If it were anyone else, Steffon would say no and would fall back down, but this is Doran, and so they shakily walk to the camp together, where Tywin and Aerys hug him - even Tywin doesn't care about formalities at that moment. Not only had Steffon lost his father in his arms, but they had all seen much, experienced many things they'd rather not see. Men can lose themselves in battle, in the fight; they haven't - this time but Steffon can see that Aerys' eyes are bright.

Aerys _would_ be the type to thrive off this stuff. For a moment though, they are three friends, three boys, and Steffon wishes it could stay like this forver - it doesn't though, of course it doesn't. He looks over Tywin's bruised shoulder and sees Doran walking away with his foster brother, at least Steffon thinks it's young Ser Tremond with the prince, too much has happened these last few days though, so he can't remember. 

(He feels like one of the maidens from the songs, watching her lover leave. Steffon wonders what his father might have done if Steffon told him about this feeling he gets when the sees the prince.) Right now though, he cares naught for anything but seeing his mother again.

* * *

 Mother rages, and it's the first time Steffon has ever seen her cry. She didn't cry when they heard about Summerhall or when her brother, Uncle Daeron, dies shortly before, even though Steffon knows his mother was closest to Uncle Daeron. His mother sometimes has misty eyes when she reads a letter from Uncle Aemon, the Night Watch's maester. But her eyes aren't misty when she is today of the news. Rhaelle Targaryen looks murderous, even more than his father did when he charged at Maelys Blackfyre.

She holds him close, thankful that he could is here and he hugs her back. They bury his father out in the garden where all Baratheons - lord or not - are buried. It's really a field wih some trees, but it's near the cliffs and has big gates around it, as though to keep the storms, and the storm gods, out. His father is in the gods' control now. Steffon isn't sure if he believes in the gods anymore.

His mother always says that doubt is good because faith is hard and losing faith, that giving up is easy, that's why some people do it, but it so much better to be faithful, at the end of the day. At least, that's what his mother says, but Steffon isn't sure he truly believes her.

(Later, he writes to Doran, in thanks, and they begin having a strong friendship - and that's all Doran wants them to be, it seems. Not that Steffon thought they would be able to be together, it's just, it might have been easier if he received this forbidden love back.)


End file.
